


A Change of Heart

by royalworldtraveler



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Isak struggles a bit™, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Slow To Update, it'll probably be worth it, seriously Isak is so in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royalworldtraveler/pseuds/royalworldtraveler
Summary: Isak Valtersen.His mother seems to only get worse, he studies until he's ready to pass out, and the world around him just isn't as bursting with color as it used to be.That is, until he meets one Even Bech Næsheim.*started off as a short story for my homophobic english teacher, and here we are now.title from A Change of Heart by The 1975.royalworldtraveler on tumblr.





	1. blue.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thoughtissuspect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtissuspect/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What gives? It's two in the morning, and you're vandalizing a historic university building with Shakespeare characters.”
> 
> Even’s cotton-candy blue eyes pierce into his, a reckless grin gracing his features. “Couldn't sleep.”

It seems to Isak that the courtyard after hours match his insides―cold, empty, and dark.

The chill October air bites at his lips and nose. Swirls of gray dance before him as he inhales and exhales, a constant reminder: You’re alive, Isak. Alive and healthy.

Autumn leaves swish around his feet, the marble pavement illuminated by ancient lamp posts. Isak loved these midnight strolls when he first started attending university.

He would grin at the sights around him, at those beautifully intimidating libraries and ivy-clad walls. The world had been so colorful, even when shrouded in 3 a.m. shadows.

Now, those very sights are colorless. Plain. Dull. Fake. Isak wouldn't be able to explain it if asked, this nauseating hollowness in his chest cavity.

He moves a hand through his blond curls, tugging at the coarse locks. Maybe, if he tugs hard enough, he'd be able to feel something. Reality. He craves it with everything he has.

This motion causes his burgundy scarf to slip off his neck and gracefully land beside his feet. He lets out a small huff and bends down to retrieve it, when his eyes catch a shred of color across the courtyard.

He squints, desperately trying to make out the scene several yards away.

Vibrant blue. Piercing scarlet. Warm gold.

Isak moves toward it naturally, mesmerized by the large brush strokes this stranger sweeps across the building wall. _To and fro, to and fro, to and fro_. He follows the paintbrush with his eyes, a long-forgotten rapid thump in his chest.

Color. _Color_.

Cotton-candy blue eyes meet his own. “ _Romeo and Juliet_.”

Isak blinks.

“ _Romeo and Juliet_ ,” the boy repeats. The stranger’s lips quirk up in a small smile, and Isak tears his gaze back to the mural before him. _So much color_. “You know―Baz Luhrmann? DiCaprio?”

Isak swallows thickly and nods in understanding. “It's―” he starts, his voice nearly breaking. “It's beautiful.” He spares a glance at the artist, whose cotton-candy blue eyes crinkle up as he grins. Isak's own joy mirrors his, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Thank you,” he replies softly, and drops his paintbrush to extend his hand. “Even.”

He shakes his hand, lingering slightly. “Isak,” he replies. He can't help but grin sheepishly at the red paint adorning his own hand.

Even's gaze drifts down to Isak’s hand, and a warm chuckle escapes his lips. “Sorry, I got you there.”

“Oh, no, it's fine,” he mumbles, gazing up at the painting. “So,” he starts.

“ _So_ ,” Even echoes teasingly. Isak glances over.

“What gives? It's two in the morning, and you're vandalizing a historic university building with Shakespeare characters.”

Even’s cotton-candy blue eyes pierce into his, a reckless grin gracing his features. “Couldn't sleep.”

He bites his lip to keep from laughing. “So you're vandalizing a historic university building with Shakespeare characters?”

Even raises his eyebrows devilishly. “Yes.”

He forces his eyes away, once more probing every inch of Even's artwork. After a moment’s pause, he replies quietly. “It's so _colorful_.”

Even chuckles lowly. “Red, blue. Capulet, Montague,” he responds pensively. “You never know who needs a reminder of the beautiful things in life. Colors. Love.” He sighs softly. "Reality."

Isak feels a clump in his throat. He glances at the mural―at Leo and Claire, at the stars in their eyes, at the vibrant blues and piercing reds and warm golds―and at Even.

He smiles softly. “You never know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	2. green.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys voice their agreements and rush out, but Isak barely notices. His eyes are back on Even's skinny frame. Back on his jacket and tousled hair and-
> 
> is that a yellow bandana?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for my isak.

It's cold out. The piercing kind of cold like receiving Bible verses as texts from your schizophrenic mother at three in the afternoon.

_BUT IF A WICKED PERSON TURNS AWAY FROM ALL HIS SINS THAT HE HAS COMMITTED AND KEEPS ALL MY STATUTES AND DOES WHAT IS JUST AND RIGHT HE SHA―_

The chime of the little bell and the familiar boisterous laughter of his friends tears his gaze away from the screen. He plasters on a smile and pockets his phone.

“ _Isak_ ,” Magnus greets, dragging out the _a_ obnoxiously.

“ _Magnus_ ,” he replies, mimicking him dryly. Magnus rolls his eyes and pulls out a chair, crowding around Isak and his long-abandoned textbook. Mahdi and Jonas follow suit.

“Hey, bro,” Jonas mumbles, stretching out his hand for their handshake. _Bros being dudes. Dudes being bros_. “We missed you at the party last night.”

Isak blinks at his coffee. “Yeah, uh, sorry. Must’ve forgotten,” he replies, waving his absence off. Isak is lying, of course. Rather than getting wasted at some girl’s party with his friends, like normal bros do, Isak was sulking around campus. And meeting tall artists.

“ _Forgotten_?” Mahdi raises his eyebrows skeptically. “You don’t just _forget_ about Emma’s parties. Or Emma. How’s that going, by the way?”

Magnus giggles childishly. “Yeah, Isak, you guys seemed really friendly at the last one. Friendly enough that you kicked us out of the bathr―”

“―I didn’t kick you out. You left on your own,” he corrects, his mouth dry at the subject. “And it’s not. Going, I mean. It’s not...going.”

“ _Bro_ ,” Magnus gapes, his eyes going wide. “What do you mean _it’s not going_? Seemed like it was going just fine last Saturday―”

Jonas scoffs. “Cut it out, Mags, I’m sure he was just getting weird vibes from her. Right, Isak?”

Isak releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Right. Yeah, psycho vibes. Really, um,” he pauses, searching for a good word, “― _clingy_ , you know?”

It's like someone popped open a metaphorical champagne bottle. A chorus of groans and exasperated sighs erupt around him.

“Don’t I know it,” Mahdi exclaims, rubbing his forehead dramatically. “Yo, I was with this girl last week, like, Tuesday or Wednesday or something, this chick from my environmental studies class―”

What little attention Isak is paying shifts to the chime of the coffee shop door.

In he walks, as tall and confident as Isak recalled, a denim jacket slung over his left shoulder and a phone at his ear. He laughs gleefully, the warm sound tickling Isak’s chest.

“Listen, man, I’ll text you later, I just got to KB―No, _I know_ , I know.” Another laugh, as he pauses to listen to the person on the other end of the call. “He is. _God_ , I know. You’ve said it enough times! Okay. Okay. I’m probably never even going to―”

“Right, Isak?” Magnus exclaims, turning to him fiercely.

Isak blinks for an excruciatingly long moment before looking at his friends. “U-Uh, what?” Mahdi rolls his eyes. “Sorry. Sorry. Just worrying about exams. You―um, you know how it is,” he rambles.

Isak grimaces as they exchange a look. Magnus tilts his head to the left, eerily similar to an aloof golden retriever. “Isak?” he questions.

Isak rolls his eyes. “ _Yes_ , Mags?”

“How’s your mom doing?”

Silence. Isak steels his jaw.

_We haven’t had a pleasant conversation, one without her bringing up all the different reasons why I’m damned for life, in four years. Not since Dad left._

“She’s doing fine,” he chirps, sighing internally at the relief on his friends’ faces.

Jonas grins. “That’s awesome, man.” Mahdi and Magnus echo their joy, patting him on the back.

“Bro, you missed last night, but you're still getting the beer for the pregame tomorrow,” Mags sings, shuffling out of his seat. Isak nods, hearing Even’s unmistakable laugh as Jonas and Mahdi clamber out of their chairs.

“For sure, man,” he mumbles, smiling up at his friends. “I'll catch you tonight, yeah?”

The boys voice their agreements and rush out, but Isak barely notices. His eyes are back on Even's skinny frame. Back on his jacket and tousled hair and _is that a yellow bandana?_

He looks taller than Isak remembers him, he notes, his eyes drawn to Even's bright smile as he thanks the cashier for his coffee and makes for the door.

As Even’s long fingers reach for the door handle, a familiar flash of color catches Isak’s attention.

He grins at the dried paint adorning Even's talented hands before gazing down at his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated!


	3. red.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead, he focuses on photosynthesis. The equation is tickling the front of his brain for a second time as he pushes through the student center’s bathroom door.
> 
> “P-Please. Please...please stop―”
> 
> The shrill cry echoes through the public restroom, bouncing off the tile walls and straight into his ear canal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: transphobia, sexual assault (non-graphic).

It's Thursday, late afternoon, and Isak has studied enough for the rest of his life. He wasn't lying about exams―about the season’s anxiety. That isn't why he’s been so aloof with his friends the previous week, of course, but it's still present.

Isak shakes his head once the real source of his problems materializes, squeezing his eyes shut in a feeble attempt to keep his mind from racing back to―

_Cotton-candy blue. Piercing gold._

Instead, he focuses on photosynthesis. The equation is tickling the front of his brain for a second time as he pushes through the student center’s bathroom door.

“P-Please. Please...please stop―”

The shrill cry echoes through the public restroom, bouncing off the tile walls and straight into his ear canal.

“Stop _moving_ ,” another voice booms, jeering laughter erupting around it like firecrackers.

Isak walks forward until they're in his line of vision.

A pack of guys, all snapbacks and football jerseys, are crowded around a dainty boy, clawing at his button-up and jeans. The boy is squirming, covering his chest with his feminine hands, and Isak is unable to do anything but watch the scene unfold.

The tallest of the men crowds him against the wall, the pained sound that escapes the small boy’s lips resonating through the empty chamber.

“ _Come on_ , we know you’re a girl in there,” one of the boys sings, his hands prying at the collar of his shirt. “Even if you call yourself Julian.”

“Yeah, what was it before, again?” another asks, triggering more sharp laughter from his friends. “Juliet? Julie?”

“S-Stop, _please_ , don’t touch―”

Isak’s sneakers screech against the tile floor, and the universe freezes.

Before he can even process what's happening, the small boy rushes past him and out of the bathroom, covering his face with his hands.

“You―” One of the violators takes two large strides before pushing his fingers into Isak’s chest. “If you speak a word of this to anyone, pussy, you're dead.”

Isak feels his breath catch in his throat.

“Got it?” the stranger barks, his friends inching closer to him with every second he remains silent.

He nods dumbly, his wide-eyed gaze dropping to the floor.

It doesn't leave the floor, either. Not when the bathroom door slams shut behind him, muffling the bursts of laughter outside. Not when his vision blurs as unshed tears sting at his eyes―a clump forming in his throat as he relives the threat, the bully’s breath hitting Isak’s face harshly as his fingers dig into his skin…

His lip quivers, his chest and limbs sagging into the floor, a million weights on his body, pushing and pulling him farther and farther down―

“Isak?”

He stiffens at the voice. The one that's haunted his dreams for a week.

“Isak, what's wrong?” Even asks softly.

He takes a steadying breath before turning to face him.

_Of course, you have to find me like this―with your fucking cinnamon-swirl hair and cotton-candy blue eyes―_

He breaks.

Even pulls Isak into him and wraps his arms around him firmly.

Isak lets out a shuddering breath and melts against him, letting Even support his whole weight. His sobs choke him, and the more he tries to stop, _the more they take over._

“You’re shaking. What’s wrong?” Even murmurs, pulling him closer. “Isak, what happened?”

But Isak isn't listening. He's too busy letting Even’s words wash over him like colossal cotton-candy tidal waves, Even’s warm breath splaying through his mess of curls and heating up Isak’s face.

“Isak, please answer. _What's wrong_?”

_BUT IF A WICKED PERSON TURNS AWAY FROM ALL THE SINS THEY HAVE COMMITTED AND KEEPS ALL MY DECREES AND DOES WHAT IS JUST AND RIGHT, THAT PERSON WILL SURELY LIVE; THEY WILL NOT DIE._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos always appreciated!


	4. gold.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anything, Isak discovers, Even is a man of his word.
> 
> “This―” he begins, his words muffled by layers and layers of cheese, “is the best grilled cheese sandwich I've ever consumed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, skam is over, but i'm pointedly ignoring that fact and posting some more of this baby au.
> 
> everything I write is dedicated to the same person, so this is for you.

The walk to Even’s apartment is a silent one. Isak feels the weight of unasked questions in the air, and he senses that Even does as well, and yet―

He knows Even won't ask until the time is right. This bit of knowledge―this feeling of comfort, of safety―is what keeps his hands from trembling. What dries his tears and undoes the knot in his throat.

Although Isak keeps his safe, quiet distance, Even turns to him as soon as he unlocks the door. Isak isn't quite expecting the first of Even’s questions to be “are you hungry?”

But, well, of course it is.

“Not to brag or anything,” Even continues, apparently taking Isak's tiny grin as a yes, “but I make the best grilled cheese in the entire Northern hemisphere.”

Isak laughs easily. “I'll be the judge of that, yeah?”

He preens at the warm smile Even replies with, and quickly drops his gaze to his feet as he toes off his sneakers. Now is not the time to make an even bigger fool of himself, Isak reminds himself. The boy is making him a fucking sandwich.

As he ventures further into Even’s apartment, he can't help but gape. Rally posters and impressionist paintings―an unlikely and beautiful combination―litter the off-white walls in total organized chaos. Sketches in ink are strewn across a small coffee table haphazardly, a mess of sharp hands and lively eyes and unfinished bodies―

And _god damn_ , Even is far too talented. Isak can do nothing but attempt to take it all in.

His place is small, cozy, really, but large windows and skylights reveal the pale sky and tall buildings around and above them.

“We’re high up,” he breathes, smiling up at the fluffy clouds. Isak breaks the strange, ethereal silence―not an uncomfortable one, he notes―but Even isn't responding.

He finally looks over, meeting those familiar cotton-candy blue eyes that had been―

staring. Staring at him.

Instead of looking away, as most people do when caught staring, Even gives him a blinding smile that hits Isak harder than expected. “What d’you think?”

He's blushing, he knows he is, but he can't bring himself to look away.

“It's cool,” he replies weakly. Isak clears his throat. “Really, really cool. You're―uh.”

He wrings his hands, his gaze finding the sketches again. “You're really talented, Even.”

Isak looks back up at him, suddenly bashful, and _God_ , he'll never be able to meet Even’s eyes confidently if he keeps that smile up.

“Thank you,” he chirps, glancing at the sketches somewhat apprehensively. _Is that a blush?_ “I'm an art minor. You learn a few things if you sift through the bullshit. And the hipsters with the tiny French hats.”

Isak feels a laugh hum in his chest. “Why on _Earth_ would you choose to ignore the tiny French hats?”

Even attempts to mute his own bubbly laugh with his hand, but, of course, fails miserably. “You know, you make a great case.”

Isak grins brightly, because oh, my God, they're giggling like fucking _schoolgirls_ now―he and this beautiful being, together―and the incident in the bathroom is seemingly forgotten.

“Are there more?” he asks. “Sketches?”

“Yes.”

“Can I see?”

“Oh.” A beat. “Well―uh. Maybe next time? There's just...some stuff. You probably shouldn't see. Right now. You know?”

Isak doesn't know. What the hell does that even mean? And why is that pretty pink blush still hugging Even’s cheeks?

Nevertheless, he nods. “Next time.”

Even’s eyes meet his, a smile tugging at his lips. “How about that sandwich?”

 *

If anything, Isak discovers, Even is a man of his word.

“This―” he begins, his words muffled by layers and layers of cheese, “is the best grilled cheese sandwich I've ever consumed.”

Even shoots him a toothy grin. “Fucking told you, didn't I?”

“You fucking did,” he replies, fighting a smile.

Isak knows this is―well, this is weird. He doesn't know Even, not really, he just knows that this boy―this artsy, insanely talented, vandalizing, fucking _explosion_ of color―is making him happier than he's been in months.

It's absolutely, mind-numbingly terrifying.

The hands that layered gallons of piercing reds and startling blues on old walls had just made him a grilled cheese. The full lips that resurfaced in his dreams, night after night, are smiling at him like he's the only thing worth smiling for. Is Isak overthinking everything? Probably. But he, in all honesty, couldn't care less, because those blue eyes are back on him.

“Would you be comfortable talking about what happened today?” Even asks, his tone nothing but sincere.

Isak slows his chewing. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's cool.”

He stares down at his empty plate. Tiny, pink roses lay on a creamy beige. Hand-painted? Does Even really make and adorn his own fucking china?

“Um, Isak?”

He glances up.

“You don't have to. Talk about it right now, I mean,” Even continues, his hand covering Isak’s on the counter. “If you don't want to.”

Isak feels his face heat up at the small bit of contact. 

“No, that's okay. I'm ready to talk about it.”

He looks up at Even’s patient expression and swallows. “I've, uh. I've been stressed recently. About exams. You know how it is.”

Even laughs softly. “Yeah, I do.”

He smiles faintly before continuing. “And, um. I haven't been sleeping very well. My mom isn't doing great. I moved out at sixteen, and we haven't talked much since, but she's been texting me...uh, Bible verses. And she's never been, like, okay. I guess.”

Isak lowers his gaze, and Even squeezes his hand. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Take your time.”

He purses his lips, nodding silently. “Thank you,” he replies, voice soft. “I care about her, of course, a lot. It's just stressful.”

Even nods, offering a small, encouraging smile.

“And, well, I’ve had some things on my mind.” _You_ , he thinks. “Little things. But they've been keeping me up, I guess.”

“Like what?”

He swallows. “Unimportant,” he replies weakly. “But anyway. I've been stressed, and then, uh. I walked in on this...this kid. Some assholes were jumping him for being―uh. For being trans. I couldn't do anything, but the kid ran out. It just kind of...shook me up, I guess.” Isak glances up to gauge his reaction. Blank. “Which, like, it's dumb, I know, I just hadn't...hadn't seen fucked up shit like that on campus. Until today.”

And then, Even’s face falls. His brow furrows as he squeezes Isak’s hand, sending a wave of an unnameable _something_  down his spine.

“Shit, Isak. That's awful,” he replies after a moment. “Did they―did they touch you? The bullies, I mean?”

Isak glances back down at their hands. “The main guy shoved me around a bit. Threatened me.”

Even huffs out a scoff, his jaw steeling. “Unbelievable. God, I'm sorry.”

He lets himself look up, his eyes traveling across the expanse of Even’s long neck, his prominent jaw line, the slope of his nose, and, finally, those familiar blue eyes. Hell, how did Isak get here? They had only spent one night together, one incredible night, and Even's treating him with nothing but unapologetic kindness. Looking at Isak like he holds all the secrets of the universe.

“Thank you,” Isak whispers, trailing his thumb across the back of Even’s beautiful hand. Fuck, everything about him is beautiful. “I mean it, thanks for being here. You don't even know me, and you're just so fucking nice.”

He watches a smile take over his features, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, rendering Isak absolutely breathless. “I don't know, it's probably just me, but―” Even pauses, swallowing, almost...nervously? Is that even possible? “I feel like I already know you, somehow. I don't know, like we were friends in a past life or some shit. You're just so...familiar.”

It's Isak's turn to smile, now. “Really?”

He feels Even’s gaze drag down his face, taking in the fond quirk of his lips. “Really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	5. white.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even’s extending his hand.
> 
> He brushes his fingers along the back of Isak’s. The ones holding Eva’s white blanket.
> 
> Isak draws in a breath as Even opens his plush lips to speak.
> 
> “I'll text you.”

The next time he runs into Even is at the Christmas movie marathon his university hosts each year.

The marathon’s principle is simple: bring your own blankets, and the university’s drama campus offers a different Christmas movie each night of a given winter week.

Though it's been a well-known town relic for years, much longer than Isak’s ongoing undergraduate career, this is his first year attending.

Why? Simple.

Eva.

She's a sucker for rom-coms―has been since she and Isak met in their first year of high school. Her boyfriend, Jonas (who happens to be Isak’s best friend), was happy to satisfy this ungodly need for sappy, unrealistic flicks throughout the four-year period of their relationship.

Now that they're broken up, though.

This weight falls directly onto Isak’s bony shoulders. The _Bridget Jones_ series smashes his collarbones on its way down.

“Seriously, Issy, _one night_! I haven't seen you in literally weeks,” she rants through a mouthful of cheesy popcorn. “I ask for one little movie night with my best friend of five years, and you _dare_ to complain?”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with two glove-covered fingertips. “Eva, for the love of _Christ_ , who this whole godforsaken week is dedicated to, will you please just understand that _I love you_ , I do, I love you, but you know more than anyone that I can't stand romantic comedies!”

Eva offers a melodramatic sigh right back. The _audacity_. “Isak, it’s Christmas! It's a Christmas rom-com! It's totally different.”

“Totally _worse_.”

She shoots him a glare before drawing her fuzzy white blanket back onto her shoulders. It must have fallen off five minutes into her passionate speech about Hugh Grant, he thinks, with how much her arms were waving about. “ _Please_ , Issy, the movie’s starting in, like, five minutes. Let’s just claim our little spot on the grass and calm―”

And then, a low, bubbly laugh shoots Isak straight in the chest.

“Isak? _Isak_ , oh, my God, hey!”

Eva turns around first, and the way her jaw drops is an accurate portrayal of how Isak’s feeling.

He takes a breath to steady himself before turning to face him.

Even’s wearing a white t-shirt (that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, Isak realizes with a furious blush) and red flannel pajama bottoms, a truly beautiful combination, coupled with his cinnamon-swirl hair and icy blue eyes, and―

Fuck, he's a sight for sore eyes.

He's with his friends, too, Isak notes a bit late, when they erupt into unintelligible yelps of surprise.

“No way. That's Isak?” one asks. “ _Damn_ , Næsheim, you weren’t joking about―”

Even puts a stiff hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Guys, this is Isak. Isak, these are some friends of mine,” he chirps, that heart-stopping grin back on his face.

The loudest of Even’s crew extends his hand for a casual shake. “Mikael. Nice to finally meet you!”

Isak nods, more than a little confused, offers a small smile and a _hey_.

Even’s other friends (Yousef and Elias, he learns) greet him enthusiastically.

Eva’s burning holes into the side of Isak’s face with her questioning eyes, and he doesn't have to look over to know what she's asking.

_Who are these beautiful men and where can I get one?_

“This is wild!” Even continues gleefully. “We had no idea you'd be here.”

Yousef lets out a snort, and Even elbows his side.

“Didn't peg you for a _Love Actually_ fan,” Isak quips, the smile on his face unwavering.

“Likewise, Valtersen,” he retorts, and is opening his pretty little mouth to say more when Eva steps a bit closer to Isak, popcorn in hand.

“He actually hates Christmas rom-coms, or, well, rom-coms in general,” she points out, a knowing smile on her lips.

Eva’s the only person Isak is out to. She must have caught onto his infatuation in thirty seconds flat.

“Oh?” Even squeaks, straightening his posture imperceptibly.

_What the hell is going on?_

“Sorry, Isak didn't introduce me, the son of a bitch.” She laughs, sending a sidelong glance his way. “I'm Eva. It's nice to meet you guys!”

She extends her dainty little hand, and Isak bites back a whimper.

Mikael, Yousef, and Elias voice their polite hellos, and Even takes her hand.

“It's...so nice to meet you, Eva,” he replies, then turns to Isak after a tense moment. “We were just on our way to grab some snacks, but we'll catch you guys after the movie?”

Isak nods hastily, offering a tight-lipped smile. “Sounds good,” he mumbles.

As soon as they're out of sight, Isak turns to her. “Eva, if he falls in love with you, I swear to God―”

“ _Relax_ , Issy, I would never steal your man,” she says. “Even though you totally screwed me over in first year.”

Isak starts to reply with a mopey  _he's not my man_ , but Eva interrupts.

“He's so into you, Issy,” she continues, a familiar grin lighting up her whole face.

“What the hell do you mean, Eva?”

“I mean _he's so into you_ , Issy! He got so jealous when he saw me. He probably thinks we're on a date, for fuck’s sake.”

_What?_

“There's no fucking way. He's―he's Even, and I’m _me_. A fucking _mess_. God, did you see him?”

“Oh, come on, Isak, don’t be this way,” she scorns. “This is exactly how you were when Julian Dahl practically dropped to his knees for you in high school. Don't ignore all the signs.”

“I'm not ignoring anything! He simply isn't―”

Eva sighs and cuts him off with a tight hug, sticking her popcorn out so it doesn't get squished between their bodies.

“You know what? Let's just find your oblivious ass a spot and enjoy our movie,” she amends, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Dibs on telling this story at your wedding, though.”

*

The movie is good, probably.

Isak spends about 70% of his focus on the incident earlier, sneaking a glance over his shoulder every half-hour or so to see if Even will miraculously appear and profess his undying love.

Needless to say, it doesn't happen.

After the film, when they're folding their plethora of blankets, Eva brings it up.

“How did you meet?”

Isak pauses, fiddling with the soft fabric between his fingers. “He was painting on campus one night,” he answers, aiming for nonchalance. He doesn't mention the fact that Even was literally painting _on campus_.

Isak wants that bit of information―rather, that explosion of color―for himself.

“And you...fell in love with him, just like that?” she presses, biting back a grin.

“I'm not in love with―”

That, of course, is when Even and his friends pop up to say goodbye.

Eva sidesteps the two with a wink, and engages in conversation with the boys behind them.

Isak swallows thickly. “Hi,” he says after a beat.

“Enjoy the movie?” Even asks.

Isak hugs the blanket a little tighter. “Great,” he replies. “I mean―like, the movie was great.”

Even smiles. “Thought you didn’t like rom-coms.”

“I―um.” He coughs. “This one was good.”

A lull in their small talk ensues, but Even breaks it with a soft chuckle that sends Isak’s stomach into a tumble. “Do you think the universe is trying to tell us something?”

Isak furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we just...keep running into each other,” he explains, raising his eyebrows. “Hell, I don't even have your number.”

Isak pauses. It takes him a moment to process.

_I don't even have your number._

_Have your number._

_Your number._

“You can have it,” Isak offers, meeting his blue gaze shyly.

Even breaks into a grin, snaking his phone out of his pajama pants.

Isak receives it and punches in his phone number, ignoring the way his fingers are dangerously close to trembling.

_First name:_

Shit, just Isak? Isak with an emoji? Is that appropriate for this situation?

Which emoji would even be suitable by his name?

He promptly realizes that he's been staring at the screen for too long.

Isak takes a sharp breath, adds a little pride flag by his name, and sends himself a text from Even’s phone.

His own phone dings in his pocket, and Isak tentatively smiles. “Works.”

Even extends his hand―for his phone, Isak reminds himself after a brief moment of panic―and he hands it back. Their fingers brush, and Isak breaks into a blush.

Literally just his fingers, he thinks. _Chill_.

Even pockets his phone and clears his throat. “Perfect.”

He smiles at Isak, and Isak lets himself smile back.

Then, Even’s extending his hand.

He brushes his fingers along the back of Isak’s. The ones holding Eva’s white blanket.

Isak draws in a breath as Even opens his plush lips to speak.

“I'll text you.”

*

 **Even**  
(00:08)  
_what’s your favorite color?_

Isak drops his spoon, effectively splashing his milk all over the table.

 **Isak**  
(00:08)  
_It's midnight_  
??  
  
The minute that follows, in which Even doesn't reply, is perhaps the longest in Isak’s life.

He’s about to take another bite of cereal when his phone dings.

 **Even**  
(00:10)  
_so like midnight blue?  
closer to black?_

 **Isak**  
(00:10)  
_Such a dork, my God_

 **Even**  
(00:10)  
_please, call me even_

 **Isak**  
(00:11)  
_Wow_  
_Okay  
I see how it is_

 **Even**  
(00:14)  
_what_ _were_ _you_ _doing_ _when_ _i_ _texted_ _you?_  
(00:15)  
_you were already up, right?_  
_please tell me i didn't wake you_

 **Isak**  
(00:15)  
_I was eating cereal  
You_ _didn't wake me_

 **Even**  
(00:15)  
_at midnight?? classy_

 **Isak**  
(00:16)  
_You're the one texting me, no room to judge my questionable eating habits  
What are you doing?_

 **Even**  
(00:17)  
_painting._

 **Isak**  
(00:18)  
_Of course you are_  
_What are you painting now?  
Still stuck on tragic love stories?_

 **Even**  
(00:20)  
_a love story_  
_but it's not tragic  
at least i don't think so_

 **Isak**  
(00:23)  
_...fun_

 **Even**  
(00:24)  
_love is fascinating_

 **Isak**  
(00:24)  
_What do you mean?_

 **Even**  
(00:25)  
_it's the most powerful force out there_

 **Isak**  
(00:25)  
_Scientifically, it isn't the most powerful force out there._

 **Even**  
(00:25)  
_hush, you know what i mean_

 **Isak**  
(00:26)  
_Do I?_

 **Even**  
(00:29)  
_you're skeptical when it comes to love?_

 **Isak**  
(00:30)  
_No_  
_I mean, I don't know  
I guess I just haven't received a lot of it lately_  
_Or ever_

 **Even**  
(00:30)  
_i'm sorry_

 **Isak**  
(00:30)  
_Don't be_

 **Even**  
(00:31)  
_you deserve to be loved  
everyone does.  
love is beautiful  
i mean. it's also terrifying.  
it makes people do questionable things, like spend hours on paintings  
or participate in double suicides  
but it can also heal  
it can heal the scars on your skin and the holes in your heart  
the ones left by people who_ _weren't loved themselves_  
_or who didn't love themselves_  
_i’m sorry you haven't experienced a surplus of love_  
_but you sure as hell deserve it, isak_

 **Isak**  
(00:43)  
_Blue. Not like midnight blue._  
_Lighter.  
Like cotton-candy_.

 **Even**  
(00:43)  
_??_

 **Isak**  
(00:45)  
_My favorite color._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos greatly appreciated.  
> comments make my day!


End file.
